


quiescent

by CallicoKitten



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bullying, Canon Autistic Character, Character Study, Gen, Hogwarts, Letters, One-Sided Relationship, Period-Typical Racism, Pre-Canon, Psychological Trauma, Unhealthy Relationships, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 05:59:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8653525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallicoKitten/pseuds/CallicoKitten
Summary: Newt is seven when he decides he likes animals more than people. (Well, he's seven when he cements that decision in stone, anyway.)He's seventeen when the Hogwarts Express leaves without him on it and his brother yanks him up by the shirt front and takes him to work at the Ministry with him. (Seventeen when the world goes to hell around him and everyone collectively stops what they're doing to fight and die in mud and dragon fire and mustard gas.)He's twenty-seven when Albus Dumbledore meets him in Paris (auburn hair starting to grey, looking far more exhausted Newt has ever met) and entrusts him with a task he's sure he'll never accomplish.





	

**Author's Note:**

> like everything i write i started this intending it to be something very different to the final result. it was meant to be a short story about newt being tasked by dumbledore to maybe keep an eye out for grindlewald (bc lbr there's no reason for him to think graves is anyone other than who he is apart from the whole jumping the gun on their execution but come on. my first thought would be: 'asshole' not 'international terrorist wizard'. who thinks like that, newt? huh?) 
> 
> anyway, i got a lot of this info from the wiki and i think the timeline adds up.

quiescent, adj. a quiet, soft spoken soul

-

Newt is seven when he decides he likes animals more than people. (Well, he's seven when he cements that decision in stone, anyway.)

He's seventeen when the Hogwarts Express leaves without him on it and his brother yanks him up by the shirt front and takes him to work at the Ministry with him. (Seventeen when the world goes to hell around him and everyone collectively stops what they're doing to fight and die in mud and dragon fire and mustard gas.)

He's twenty-seven when Albus Dumbledore meets him in Paris (auburn hair starting to grey, looking far more exhausted Newt has ever met) and entrusts him with a task he's sure he'll never accomplish.

(He'll be thirty-seven when he marries, forty-seven when he becomes a father but for now there is - )

\---

He's always been fascinated with horklumps. His father brought them back from a trip to Norway and they overran his mother's garden in a matter of days. He watches his parents cull them, his brother joins in with the flashy new wand they bought him for his tenth birthday (they want him to have a head start when he heads to Hogwarts in September.) They leave a few alive because his father admires their gall.

Newt likes to watch them hunt. The hippogriffs would of course be more interesting but his mother doesn't like him being so close (she thinks Newt doesn't understand them because he doesn't understand people but Newt gets the hippogriffs just fine. Better than his mum, even. She thinks Greytalon is sulky because she's bought a new stud when really it's because he's hurt his ankle. It's not broken, Newt's checked best he can, but hippogriffs are proud. They don't like people knowing they're hurt. Newt's been sneaking dittany into Grey's feed.)

_ Anyway,  _ when his mother's around or Theseus isn't, Newt mostly makes do with the horklumps. Digging holes so he can watch their roots spear earthworms and unfortunate moles that passed by. (He saves the moles when he can, bandages them up and keeps them in little boxes under his bed until they're better.)

He starts taking the horklumps upstairs because he wants to know how they work. He doesn't get it then, not really. They look like plants. Like the mushrooms his mother fries up for breakfast now and again. (Except when his mother finds out she points out that he kept the knife he stole from the kitchen hidden, that he lied about taking it so he must have known it was wrong. And Newt tells her he knew  _ stealing the knife  _ was wrong but he didn't put two and two together.)

It's Theseus that first says the 'F' word to him, leaning against the doorframe while Newt's parents clean up the horklump blood and Newt cries because they're ruining the experiment he worked  _ all summer  _ on. Theseus shakes his head, smirk at the corner of his mouth and says, "You're such a freak, Newt."

And their mother yells at both of them - Newt for being beastly, for hurting something alive which is something you must never,  _ never  _ do, Newton? Do you hear me? and Theseus for being horrible to his little brother.

"Newt's just a little different, Thee," Newt hears her say as he sits on the stairs, arms wrapped about his torso, swaying back and forth. "But that doesn't mean you're allowed to be beastly. You're his big brother; you're supposed to take care of him."

(Theseus apologises and he doesn't Newt a freak from then on but it's always there, this open wound on Newt's chest, it's always lingering in the back of his mind, insidious and looming. Newt Scamander is different. Newt Scamander hurts living things.

Newt Scamander is a  _ freak _ .)

\---

Newt's birthday falls in the late summer so he's already got his Hogwarts letter when his parents take him to Ollivander's. His wand is made of cedar and unicorn hair but Newt's far more excited about the trip to the Magical Menagerie his parents have promised.

He eyes up a niffler but his parents don't bite, he has enough animals at home, they say, and besides, the letter permits an owl, a cat  _ or  _ a toad (and Newt  _ knows  _ that it's just that he's already promised his toad, Julia and his barn owl, Dusty and Basil the grouchy tomcat that he'll take them  _ all  _ along.)

Platform 9 3/4  is crowded and loud and it makes Newt's head hurt. He keeps a hand curled around Julia in his robes pocket (Dusty is in her carrier on his cases and Basil is curled up in his trunk - it's okay, it's big enough and he'll let Basil out as soon as they're on the train.) 

His mother is teary eyed as she kisses him goodbye, "Try to make friends, Newt," she says and Newt nods mutely. She rubs his arm, one last time and Theseus throws an arm around his shoulders, "Don't worry, Mum. I'll watch out for him."

"I know you will," his mother says.  _ But I still worry,  _ she doesn't add.

Theseus guides him onto a carriage. "Remember," he says. "If you don't find anywhere to sit you can come and find me, okay? I'll make room for you." His Gryffindor tie hangs loose from his shirt collar. He doesn't need to be wearing it at all yet, hardly any of the other students are in their robes but Theseus has a crush on a Hufflepuff girl in the year above him and he's trying to impress her.

Newt's not convinced it'll work.

"I will," he promises, solemnly.

Theseus makes a face because he knows Newt is lying. "Come find me if anyone's rude to you as well."

Newt nods and Theseus leaves, heading towards the back of the train where his friends have already staked out a carriage.

Newt heads in the opposite direction and mercifully finds an empty carriage near the front. He shuts the door, draws down the little curtain and lets Basil out. Basil himself doesn't seem too bothered by this new freedom and instead, yawns and continues to doze on Newt's new robes.

He sets Julia on the table in front of him and waves to his mother as the train departs.

"Now, hopefully," he says, to Julia. "We won't be disturbed and I won't have to worry about the other children until the sorting ceremony." He's dreading it. Absolutely dreading it. Being crammed in with all the other kids, finding somewhere to sit at the feast - if he's in Gryffindor he can sit with Theseus but he heard his dad say a few evenings ago that Erumpets will fly before Newt gets sorted into Gryffindor so that's that.

He'll be okay when classes start. He'll spend his weekends in the library or the greenhouses or the Forbidden Forest or he'll find some gillyweed and explore the lake. He's heard there are mermaids and a giant squid.

It's just this first bit he has to get past. He can do that. He  _ can. _

_ \--- _

They're halfway to Hogwarts or thereabouts (and Newts lost in his copy of the herbology text book) when there comes a knock at his carriage door.

Newt drops the book in surprise.  _ Go away,  _ he thinks. But the knocking comes again, becomes persistent so finally Newt licks his dry lips and calls, "Y-yes?"

"So there  _ is  _ someone in there," a girl says.

"I - yes," Newt replies. He stands up, peers through the slit at the bottom of the curtains. "What do you want?"

"To come in," says the girl. She has a refined look about her, dark hair held back from her face with a silver clasp, dark skin, an expensive dress. She sets her jaw and Newt realises she's been crying at some point. "No one else will let me in."

"Uh," Newt says. He looks back at Julia on the table, Basil spread out on the luggage rack purring, Dusty snoozing in her cage.

"Come on," the girl says. "Please?"

Against his better judgement, Newt unlocks the carriage door and the girl steps in side. "Thank you," she says, looking genuinely relieved. She smiles at him and then looks about the carriage.

"I can explain," Newt says, quickly.

The girl looks at him, alarmed, "Explain what?"

Newt's words fail him. He looks up at Basil and then at Julia and then at Dusty. The girl follows his gaze then looks back at him slowly. She's got those wide eyes that Newt knows mean she thinks he's weird. This is why he didn't want to let anyone in!

"The letter," he explains. "I know it says we're only allowed an owl, a cat  _ or  _ a toad but I've had Basil since he was a kitten and I couldn't leave Julia, Mother's hippogriffs keep trying to eat her so - "

He stops when the girl laughs, face reddening. "Wh-what's so funny?" he asks.

"I don't think they really enforce that rule," she says. "My cousin brought her cat and her owl to school last year and no one was upset."

"Oh," Newt says.  _ Oh.  _ "So I didn't need to bring Basil in my trunk? I left so many of my clothes behind..."

The girl laughs, "I'm sorry," she says, when Newt stares. "You're just so funny!"

Newt frowns, "I am?"

"Yes!" the girl says. She holds out her hand when she's stopped laughing, "I'm Leta. Leta Lestrange."

Newt takes her hand gingerly. Shakes it gently. "Newt," he offers back. Leta sits down and Newt follows suit, sitting opposite her. "Why would no one else let you sit with them?" he asks.

Leta huffs, "Oh,  _ you  _ know." Basil hops down to investigate her and she holds out a hand for him to sniff. "Abraxas Malfoy has been busily telling the entire train what a filthy little mudblood I am."

"But you're a Lestrange," Newt says. The Lestranges are pure bloods. Even a dolt like Newt knows  _ that. _

"Yes," Leta says, "But I'm the kind of Lestrange who's father slept with a maid." She scratches Basil behind the ear and Newt smiles. Basil doesn't usually take so well to strangers.

"And besides," Leta adds quietly, curling her fingers into Basil's dark fur. "There's more than one meaning to mudblood."

"There is?" Newt asks, fascinated.

Leta smiles sadly, "There is to them, at least. What about you, then?" She makes a face, "You're not a Weasley, are you?"

Newt shakes his head, "I'm a Scamander."

"Oh," Leta brightens. "My Aunt bought a hippogriff from a Scamander."

\---

Leta is sorted into Slytherin. Newt is sorted into Hufflepuff.

He figures that's it. Slytherins and Hufflepuffs don't mix, after all but he gets up early for breakfast the next day and Leta does too, coming to join him at the Hufflepuff table and busily comparing timetables.

They have most of their classes together. Newt's pleased.

His brother isn't.

"Is that the Lestrange girl I've seen you palling around with?" he asks, taking Newt aside in the corridor after transfiguration.

Newt nods, "Her name is Leta."

Theseus is frowning, "Well, I don't want you hanging around her anymore. Her family are no good, Newt. Do you understand? They're dangerous."

Newt doesn't understand. He tells Theseus so. "She likes me, though. She understands me."

"No she doesn't!" his brother snaps. "Why would she - " He catches himself. "Oh, Newt, I didn't mean it like that. I only meant that her kind - purebloods - they're just  _ evil, _ okay? They're elitist and -"

"I don't believe you," Newt snaps. "You're just upset I've found someone who doesn't think I'm a freak!" He storms off and Theseus calls after him.

Newt skips History of Magic, sneaks into the Forbidden Forest to hunt for bowtruckles. Leta finds him after class, has brought food she stole from kitchen so they don't have to go in to dinner if they don't want to.

"Are you just pretending to be my friend, Leta?" Newt asks quietly.

Leta reacts like he's just smacked her, recoils, horrified, " _ What _ ?"

"My brother said - "

"And you  _ believed  _ him?" she snaps.

"No, I - " Newt begins but Leta turns away from him. She only does that when she's getting teary. Newt shuts his mouth and sits quietly, hands in his lap until she sniffs, wipes her eyes on her sleeve and says, "Come on, we should probably get back to the castle before somebody notices."

\---

_ Newton,  _ his mother writes,

_ I hope all is going well with your classes, I have only received one owl home from your professors this week, 3 less than last week! I know you find charms boring, dear, but it's just as important as herbology and besides, if you get expelled before your third year you won't be able to attend the care of magical creatures classes you're so excited about so behave! _

_ Anyway, your brother wrote to me the other day absolutely beside himself. He says you have been spending all your time with one of the Lestrange children and, I must admit, I wasn't exactly thrilled to hear this, Newton. You must know how vile some of their family is and yes, I appreciate that I haven't met the girl but you know what they say about Slytherins. _

_ Look Newton, I know your brother and your father I hoping I forbid you to see her or something but honestly, I'm just so happy you found someone you feel comfortable with and I trust you. She must be a truly special person. _

_ But be careful, honey. I don't want you to get hurt. _

_ With all the love in the world, _

_ Your Mother. _

_ \--- _

They find the Room of Requirement after Christmas. Leta, Newt discovers, is fascinated by potions and by November, she’s already mastered all the draughts contained in their first year textbook so she moves on to second and then third and fourth and fifth which technically they’re not allowed to do. It’s impossible for her to get the ingredients so Newt starts writing letters to apothecaries under his father’s name to buy things like boomslang skin and powdered root of asphodel and what he can’t buy he starts to grow. They plunder the forest and the lake for mermaid scales and unicorn hair and creep into the restricted section whenever they can for new recipes.

The space the Room creates for them is perfect, there’s space enough for Leta’s cauldrons, benches for brewing, shelves for ingrediants space for drying herbs  and skins. There are neat little plots for Newt’s gardens and a few pens that appear after a month or two that baffle Newt until Leta points out that the Room was probably just tired with Newt bringing injured bowtruckles and grindylows and letting them run wild. 

In third year, Leta starts sleeping in there, Newt comes down one morning early to check on the mermaid pup the Giant Squid tossed in his vague direction one afternoon and finds her in a hammock, strung up in the corner. She doesn’t talk about it when she wakes up, looking startled and guilty so Newt follows suit. 

(She doesn’t need to tell him why, people don’t like Newt very much but they’re content to ignore him mostly or laugh at him when his back is turned so he can pretend not to hear but it’s not so with Leta. She gets called names, hexed, pushed down staircases, some of the teachers intervene but mostly they pretend not to see.

Newt’s invisible, Leta’s an easy target.)

Newt goes to the kitchens and asks the house elves to make Leta’s favourite breakfast and the biggest mug of hot cocoa they can find and they skip classes that day, spending it thumbing through books Professor Dumbledore leant them as an incentive to stop stealing books from the restricted section. 

His brother’s still not happy about how much time he spends with Leta but when Newt brought her home for Christmas last year he was civil so there’s that. 

“She’s using you,” he says, over and over and over. “I don’t get how you don’t see that.”

And Newt  _ doesn’t _ see that because it’s not true.

It’s  _ not. _

\---

(Sometimes though, he knows what Theseus means. Sometimes it’s Newt that finds himself in the Room late at night, knees drawn up to his chest, trying to keep his breathing steady or to stop himself shaking because it’s all gotten to be too much. Because the Slytherins have pulled a prank on him or one of the professors has lost it and screamed at him in front of everyone because Newt’s not paying attention or because he’s refused to do things like transfigure animals into goblets or test out a potion on mice and the other students are laughing at him because he’s trying to make the professor see things from his perspective because why can’t they just  _ see _ ? And Leta will find him and sometimes she’ll sit with him until he unfolds but mostly she’ll just tell him about how she has it worse.)

\---

It’s Leta that brings up the prospect of the chimera egg. 

They’re in their sixth year, on the Hogwarts Express, Basil is curled up in Leta’s lap. Leta’s quieter than usual, there’s a bruise on her cheek but she hasn’t talked about and Newt’s not sure if he should ask. 

He’s had a bad summer too, aside from Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology he’s not doing well at school. It’s not that he’s stupid or that he doesn’t know the spells his Professors are teaching him, it’s that there are so many more _ interesting  _ things he’d rather be doing, or there are creatures in the Room that need his attention or Leta needs him or something but his brother graduated that year with flying colours and got snapped up for a Ministry job straight away so his parents are starting to get impatient.    

“Chimera’s are very dangerous, you know,” he says, scribbling in his notebook. He’s started keeping notes on their observations and discoveries, he has twelve books worth. “I’d have no idea how to go about finding one.” He doesn’t say:  _ why do you want a Chimera, Leta? Why would you want something so dangerous?  _

Last year, Newt bought a dragon egg, a Welsh Green. They kept her in the Room until Professor Dumbledore found out and sent her to a sanctuary a few weeks before summer break. Leta had been planning to take her home to London and terrorise her family. Dumbledore was very annoyed. (Much more annoyed than when he found Newt with a Phoenix hatchling and promptly confiscated it.)

Leta tilts her head. She cut her hair over the summer, it falls blunt just above her jaw line, framing her face in way that makes Newt’s cheeks hot. “I think they’re interesting,” she says. “There hasn’t been much study of them because they’re so vicious and it’s not strictly  _ legal  _ to breed and raise them. I’m sure there are people who do that, though.” 

(He misses the inflection at the end of her words, the little rise at the end that indicates it’s a question not a throwaway statement.)

“Oh, there are,” Newt confirms. Not that he’s been looking. 

Leta grins, “So, just how hard  _ would  _ it be to get a hold of one?”

\---

As it turns out, it really isn’t that hard at all once you know where to look. Newt’s been in contact with a man in Europe who trades in dangerous beasts since he was thirteen (and when he’s older he’ll  have the man thrown in Azkaban for trafficking endangered creatures but for now he sells Newt eggs stolen from Nests and sketchy accounts of cryptids from across the world and his prices are hefty but he’s good at sneaking things into Hogsmede for them.) 

It’s about the same size as the dragon’s egg and the Room helpfully provides a large, sturdy cage to keep it in. They have to keep it warm but not too warm and Newt spends hours sketching it, noting down it’s development. It starts shaking after a few weeks, not wildly, just little twitches here and there. Leta spends her time trying to brew up something horrible to give to her housemates, Abraxas Malfoy in particular. She wants to make them sorry for ever hurting her, she says. Which Newt thinks is reasonable. 

He asks his Care of Magical Creatures professor about them under the guise of writing an essay on them. The Professor gives him a few books on chimeras, what they eat and so forth. They're carnivores so he and Leta spend a few nights in the dungeons hunting for rats.

It hatches after another a few weeks, they've both started sleeping down there, no one in their respective dorms cares enough to tell. It shoves its way into existence, fur clumped and gunky. Newt washes it carefully, avoiding the poisonous barb on its tail.

“It's so  _ beautiful _ ,” he says to Leta, pressed up against his side. 

Leta nods, quietly awed. 

\---

They name the chimera Aesop and Newt doesn't leave the Room for a week. When Leta finally forces him out there's a howler waiting from his parents and Professor Dumbledore takes him aside.

“This really isn't acceptable, Newt,” he says. “Now, I know and  _ you  _ know that you could pass your NEWT’s with your eyes closed but you haven't been to  _ one class  _ this week. Not even Care of Magical Creatures.”

Newt avoids his gaze. Looks down at his own hands.

“Newt?” Dumbledore prompts, gently. “I’m not in danger of stumbling over another dragon in the hallways, am I?” 

“No, sir,” Newt says, to his hands.

Dumbledore sighs, “Newton, you're a bright boy. One of the finest minds Hogwarts have ever seen. But I can't keep protecting you.”

Newt frowns at that, “Protecting me, sir?”

Dumbledore snorts. “You didn't know? Newton, if  _ any  _ other student was absent as often as you are they would have been expelled long ago!”

“Are you protecting Leta to?” Newt asks.

Dumbledore makes a face. He thinks what everyone else thinks probably, what Newt’s brother thinks, what his parents think. They all think Leta’s a bad influence, that she's the reason he's sequestered himself away from everyone. What they don't get is that Newt would still skip class as much if he hadn't met Leta, if she hadn't come into his carriage that day or if she'd transferred to Beuxbatons like she wanted to in second year or run away to America like she wanted to in fourth, he'd still avoid everyone, he'd just be doing it alone.

“As much as I can,” Dumbledore answers. “As much as I can.”

\---

“What did Dumbledore want with you?” Leta asks, later. She mashing up rats for Aesop’s dinner. There's a fleck of blood on her cheek that Newt wishes she'd wipe off. 

“I haven’t been to lessons all week,” Newt says. “People are getting upset. He probably wants to talk to you as well.”

Leta arches a brow, “Have you  _ ever _ been to lessons?”

Newt smiles, “Once or twice.” He’s fidgeting with his hands, fingers drumming against each other soothingly. “He says he can’t keep protecting me.” 

Leta snorts, “He’s  _ protecting  _ you? From what? He didn’t seem all that concerned when that idiot Black boy hit you with a bat-boogey hex last week.” 

Newt shrugs. Dumbledore had at least reversed it. He slides of the table he’s sitting on and crosses to Aesop’s pen. The chimera’s asleep, curled up and snoring. Newt reaches through and scrates him behind the ear and Aesop yawns and stretches, arching his back like Basil does. “They’ll kick me out, Leta,” he says, quietly. “But we can’t exactly leave Aesop alone. He’s too young.”

Leta hums thoughtfully. “We could try to brew a Doppel-Draught. I’ve been reading about it in one of my father’s books. It’s supposed to create a double of you if you drink it, the double won’t be able to talk to anyone but it can do basic things like go to class and take notes.”

“I’ve never heard of that,” Newt says, frowning.

“It’s been illegal for a few hundred years,” Leta explains. “It needs unicorn blood and ashwinder eggs and polyjuice potion  _ and _ liquid luck. Though I think we have some of both of those left over… I can’t remember what else it needed, I’ll have to look it up again…”

“Why’s it illegal?”

“The doppelgangers are very literal,” Leta says. “And they  _ have _ to do what you say. So if you tell them they have to fetch someone, say, they’ll do  _ anything  _ to bring that person to you, even if that person doesn’t want to come. There were a couple of deaths back in the 1800’s and it’s difficult to prosecute that sort of thing because  _ technically _ the person who brewed the potion hasn’t actually killed anyone.” 

Newt looks down at Aesop.  Between them they’ve decided that the only way they’ll be able to keep him from going savage is if one or both of them is around him at all times. He’s growing fast, already the size of a small crup, but he’s still so young. He still relies on them for everything. 

“But if we’re just sending them to class they probably won’t hurt anyone,” Leta adds.

\---

The doubles work well for about a month, they take it in turns. One of them stays with Aesop, the other goes to class and tries to keep the double in check. They’ve planned it around classes they actually want to take. The doubles creep Newt out far more than he thought they would. They’re like lifelike, realistic dolls that move around and smile but have absolutely  _ nothing _ behind the eyes (but they bleed and they bruise because Leta’s double gets pushed down the stairs and cuts open her knee and it doesn’t flinch or cry out as it stands up, blood steadily spreading under it’s tights.) His professors seem content though, happy that finally he’ll stay quiet and take notes and not interrupt or attempt to read a book on Manticores or hinkypunks instead of practising his spellwork. 

The day before It happens it’s Newt’s turn to babysit Aesop. He’s a lot bigger now, the size of a labrador, he’s started to belch clouds of dark smoke which is exciting because up until now, chimera’s breathing fire has been unsubstantiated. Leta comes back to the Room after dinner that evening in tears. Newt lets her sob into his jumper and rubs soothing circles into her back but she doesn’t tell him what happens. She never does these days. 

When she’s steadier, she tells him she wants to be alone. Newt doesn’t argue even though he thinks he should.

The next morning, Leta’s double is waiting for him at the Hufflepuff table, smiling blankly, hands folded neatly on the table in front of her. The Rosier twins, Abraxas Malfoy’s cronies, jeer at them from the Slytherin table. Newt keeps his head down. Since Theseus graduated there’s no one around to intervene if he stands up for himself. 

They make it to the last class of the day before things start to go wrong.

Leta has Ancient Runes, Newt has a free period. He walks the double to classroom and tells it to go straight back to the room after class. He’s halfway down the corridor when he hears laughter. 

The Rosier twins have blocked the entrance to the classroom. The double keeps trying to get past them, a frown on it’s face. Arabelle Black is laughing. “You weren’t so quiet yesterday,” she sneers.

The double must get impatient because it shoves one of the twins, something they obviously weren’t expecting and one them goes sprawling the floor. Wands are drawn. What happens next seems to happen in slow motion. The standing Rosier twin takes the double down and it snaps, kicking and thrashing and biting. The Professor arrives and starts yelling, tells Rosier to get off her but by this point, the double has Rosier pinned down. It’s still trying to get into the classroom but it’s feet are tangled in Rosier’s clothes and it must not realise, it must think Rosier’s still holding it down because it’s hitting him over and over and over.

“Miss Lestrange!” The Professor is yelling, waving her wand about., “I will be forced to use this if you do not let Mr Rosier go! Someone send for the Headmaster. Miss Lestrange! Let him _ go _ !” 

Newt steps forward, points his wand at the double. “ _ Finite Incantatem _ !” 

The double vanishes. 

The Professor goggles at him, “Mr Scamander!”

\---

Luckily, Professor Dumbledore arrives before Headmaster Black does and spirits Newt away to his office. 

“So,” Dumbledore begins and he looks quite caught between fury and curiosity. “Would you like to explain yourself, Mr Scamander?”

Newt wouldn’t. He’s looking at his hands. They’re still shaking. 

Dumbledore sighs. “So I’m presuming that that creation was  _ not  _ in fact the real Miss Lestrange,” he pauses, like he’s waiting for Newt to confirm it. “Is she alright?”

Newt nods. She’ll be so annoyed with him for destroying the double.

Dumbledore nods. “So I’m assuming this was your way of getting me off your back? What did you use?”

“Leta called it the Doppel-draught.”

Dumbledore looks impressed, “I’m guessing she found that in one of her father’s books?”

Newt nods. “Will she be in trouble, sir?”

“I should think so,” Dumbledore says. “But hopefully, the headmaster will be lenient given the complexity of that potion.” He smiles warmly and Newt starts to relax a little. 

“So,” he says. “Are you going to tell me what it is you and Miss Lestrange are spending your time on, if not lessons? And please,  _ please _ tell me it’s not another dragon.”

There’s a knock on the door that saves Newt from answering and Dumbledore looks over at it, “Come in,” he calls.

The Head Girl sticks her head in, red-cheeked and wide-eyed, “Sir! There’s a creature on the loose in the dungeon!” she pants.

And Newt’s heart sinks.

\---

His brother gives him a few months to mope before finding him the job in the ministry but in the grand scheme of things, his expulsion doesn’t end up meaning anything. It’s 1914. The year the world falls apart.

His brother, his stupid, brave brother, is one of the first wizards to sign up for the war effort. The Minister has strict rules about how magic is to mix with warfare. He’s forbidden it but that doesn’t stop wizards signing up, leaving their wands behind. A lot of wizards sign up as medics, a lot are on the front line, a lot give their lives.

Theseus is in the trenches. His letters are brief and bare and Newt reads them in his bed, hands shaking, because he knows all the things his brother isn’t saying. When he turns eighteen he tells his family he’s going to enlist. It’s Theseus, he thinks, Theseus and Dumbledore, who get him sent to the Eastern front to work with dragons.

(Later, he’ll find a bundle of letters from Theseus to their mother: 

_ Newt mustn’t come to the trenches, Mother. It would break him and know that I do not think him weak, I do not doubt his skill with a wand or his courage or his ability to weather difficult situations. God knows he already lived through his own private war at Hogwarts. But his kindness would kill him here. There are so many senseless deaths, not just from enemy guns or artillery or from the gas but the mud, mother. The mud has taken more than you can imagine, men who find themselves trapped and sinking, too weak or broken to pull themselves out and at first we would try to dig them out but we cannot afford to expend that time and that energy anymore. You must think me monstrous. You must think me selfish. But it is to the stage that often, it is safer to stand on the bodies of your colleagues because it is the only solid ground to be found. _

_ If Newt is truly to fight we must send him East. I have a friend who works with dragons. _

_ Your son,  _

_ Theseus.) _

So Newt spends four years in the frozen wastes, hatching dragons, looking after hatchlings, training them to be ridden, to be weapons and he waits for his brother’s next letter. (He writes to Leta every few weeks. They range from sorrowful to apologetic to day-to-day commentary and she never writes back, never makes any acknowledgement that she’s even reading them but after a while, it becomes a habit, a comfort. He can write things to Leta he wouldn’t to his mother or his brother. Things about the dragons that come back injured, the soldiers that don’t act properly around them and get gored or burnt or crushed, the few missions they let him go on. 

He hopes she reads them. He hopes she writes back someday.

Sometimes he misses her so much it  _ hurts. _ He’ll wake up woozy, expecting to be back in Hogwarts, in the Room with Basil and Julia and Leta but he wakes up staring at the bunk above him feeling wrecked and empty.)

\---

Newt goes home in 1917. The war is a year away from being won but Newt is done. Running home with his tail between his legs. He goes back to the Beast Division, spends his days investigating smuggling rings and the exotic pet trades, monitoring people’s licences. 

Everything feels rather foggy for the first few months, like someone has cotton in his ears and erected a barrier between him and everyone else.  _ Shell shock,  _ his mother calls it, pity on her face. 

He still writes to Leta ( _ Dear Leta, I wake up each day in my little hodge-podge flat in London and go to work at the Ministry by my mind is still in the snow with the dragons. I fear it may always be so. I spend my weekends at home still, helping my mother with the hippogriffs but it hardly helps. I wish you had seen it, my family’s land. It’s so beautiful. You would love it. _

_ Basil misses you. _

_ Yours,  _

_ Newt.)  _

He realises there’s very little chance Leta still lives at the Lestrange estate, even smaller a chance that her family will forward the letters onto her wherever she may be. He has faith in Dusty though. If any owl could find her it’s Dusty. 

\---

His brother comes home a hero. His brother was  _ always  _ a hero but now he has medals pinned to his chest and a slight limp on his left side. He strolls back into the Auror Department and ends up running it within a year. 

He still treats Newt like he’s the same seven year old that spirited horklumps up to his room and took them apart to see how they worked, like Newt needs protecting and honestly, it’s starting to sting. 

“It’s just because he cares,” his mother says smiling softly and Newt  _ knows  _ that but he’s twenty-four, he doesn’t a babysitter anymore.

_ Dear Leta,  _ he writes.  _ Theseus has been insufferable since the war. I’m suffocating here in London, sat behind a desk all day but it was bearable when my brother didn’t insist on dropping by twice a day to check up on me! He insists on coming on raids with me nowadays, even if it’s just to some squib kneazle breeder without a licence. _

_ You were right. We should have run away in fifth year. You could be some great potion brewer and I could study all the creatures of the world. _

_ Yours,  _

_ Newt. _

_ \--- _

Augustus Worme is a large, dumpy man and his shirt is a few sizes too small. He’s a fan of Newt’s work apparently, has read every paper Newt’s ever published and is very interested in Newt writing him a book.

“It would be sort of an encyclopedia,” he tells Newt over tea and scones. “Of magical creatures. We would fund you of course because one imagines there would be a lot of travel involved…”

“Travel, sir?” Newt echoes.

“Well,  _ yes.  _ How else would you categorise the beasts of the world?”

\---

“I think it’s a  _ marvellous  _ idea,” his mother says, when he tells her. “Just think of all the adventures you could have!”

His brother, though, is rather less thrilled. “You expect to go on your own?” He says, incredulous. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is, Newton? Merlin’s beard, you didn’t even graduate Hogwarts!”

Newt bristles, “That doesn’t mean I’m any less skilled than you and you know it.”

Theseus huffs, “You know I didn’t mean it like that, Newt.” He runs a hand through his hair and crosses his arms. “But some of these creatures… I just don’t think you’re fully grasping how dangerous they are. I mean, look at what happened with that Chimera!”

“That wasn’t - “ Newt starts but Theseus holds up his hands.

“I know, I know. That was that Lestrange girl but the Malfoy boy will bear those scars for the rest of his life and that was just a cub! Imagine what a full grown beast could do.” 

“I spent three years working with dragons!” Newt snaps. 

“Be that as it may,” his brother says. “I still say it’s too dangerous. Especially with Grindelwald wreaking havoc across Europe. Now, I’m sorry, Newt, but - “

“I don’t need your permission,” Newt says. He strides out and his brother calls after him.

“Newt! Newton! Come back, listen to me, please!”

\---

_ Leta,  _

_ I’ve realised at long last that you were right. Again. As you often seem to be. Theseus will never see me as anything more than his wayward little brother no matter what I do. I suppose one day I will find that a comfort but for now it stings.  _

_ Anyway, I am leaving for Ireland tomorrow to begin writing my book. _

_ Newt. _

\---

He spends three months travelling around Britain before he heads to Europe, searching for augureys in the Irish countryside, observing fairies in the Forest of Dean, hovering above the  Isle of Drear on his mother’s favourite hippogriff, trying to observe quintapeds without getting mauled. 

In Europe, he learns that Grindelwald has stolen the Elder Wand and is attempting to amass an army of dark creatures. He spends a few years making his observations, working with governments, breaking up smuggling rings, trying to make them see the alternatives to wiping out certain creatures simply because they’re dangerous or uncontrollable. He goes to America after Europe,  hops a ship to Australia, curves back around through Asia and Africa. Along the way his menagerie grows, creatures that have been injured, lost, abandoned. Creatures almost hunted to extinction. He meets creatures he’d never dreamt of, a lethifold the wipes out an entire village, an injured nandu cub, the last breeding pair of graphorns in the world. 

When he’s twenty-seven he meets Albus Dumbledore in Paris. He has just come from the Sudan, there’s a girl there he’s trying to help, an obscurial, eight years old and kept chained up like an animal. He’s left her with friends, people who’ll keep her safe and calm while Newt scrambles for something,  _ anything  _ he can do to save her. 

“Mr Scamander,” Dumbledore greets, beaming. He picked the tavern they’re meeting in. It’s quiet, nice. A lot less boisterous than the places Newt’s usually dragged to. “How nice to see you again,” he holds out a hand and Newt shakes it briskly.

“Yes, likewise, Professor. I’m afraid I didn’t owl you under the best circumstances though, sir.”

Dumbledore looks genuinely concerned, “Oh?”

“As you can imagine I’ve met many varied creatures on my travels, professor, many of which have never been researched or documented in any meaningful way,” Newt says. He has no idea how to broach this topic. He’s been rehearsing the different ways this conversation could go since he received Dumbledore’s reply yesterday. 

“I’m sure,” Dumbledore says, cautiously. He probably knows Newt’s about to ask something uncomfortable. 

“I’ve just come from Sudan,” Newt continues. “As I’m sure you know, our kind are not particularly welcome there and as such - “ he trails off because Dumbledore closes his eyes.

“You want to know if my sister was an obscurial,” Dumbledore says, flatly.

Newt’s cheeks start to flood with colour. He knew this was a bad idea. He  _ knew _ it. No one knew for sure what had happened to Arianna Dumbledore, it was all just hearsay, rumour but it made sense. His sister had been attacked for using magic, had repressed it, had lost control and killed their mother under mysterious circumstances. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Newt says. “But there are  _ so _ few accounts and this child…”

Dumbledore sighs. He looks exhausted, auburn hair already streaked with grey, dark circles that have grown since Newt knew him back at Hogwarts. They’ve been in contact infrequently, Newt spent some time back at Hogwarts while researching beasts in Scotland and a lot has been made of Dumbledore’s once close friendship with Grindelwald. He is Deputy Head of Hogwarts now, everyone is certain he will succeed Dippet when he finally steps down or keels over. 

“My sister was troubled,” Dumbledore says, quietly.  “And she repressed her magic but she was loved, Mr Scamander, she was supported. Encouraged. If she had been considered an obscurial she would be a very weak one.” 

“But did she manifest?” Newt persists. “Did she have any semblance of control over her magic?”

Dumbledore shakes his head, “She never lost control before she killed my mother and never again afterwards. We made sure of it. My brother and I.” He’s holding something back, Newt knows. “Grindelwald was fascinated,” Dumbledore says, eventually. “Absolutely fascinated.” He shakes his head, a far away look in his eyes. “At the time I thought he was trying to help but now… I know he was simply interested in the raw power Ariana contained. He was more interested in harnessing that energy, I think, than in helping save her.”

Newt nods, “And did you find anything that held promise?”

Dumbledore smiles faintly, “I didn’t. I was so caught up in Grindelwald’s other fascinations that I put aside my sister. Does that shock you, Mr Scamander?” He asks, a bitter edge to his voice.

“I - No, sir. You were young and well - Given the circumstances surrounding your sister and her condition well - “

Dumbledore laughs but it sounds raw and humourless. “Don’t make excuse for me, Newton. I knew what I was doing at the time, I knew what I was sacrificing and for whom. If things had been different then… Well. It does not do well to dwell, Newton. Remember that.” He shakes his head once more. “I am sorry I could not be of more help. What I will say is that in my research since, I have come to realise that there are only two solutions, aside from killing the child, of course, either you must sever the child’s connection to their magic or you must attempt to reconcile it.”

“Sever their connection to their magic? Can such a thing be done?”

“Theoretically, yes, but how I could not say. But before you go, there is something I must request of you.”

Newt tilts his head, “Sir?”

“You are an incredibly observant boy, Newton,” Dumbledore says (and Newt baulks a little at being called  _ boy _ , Dumbledore is just over a decade older than him, no matter how ancient he may sound.) “Grindelwald has gone into hiding. The Ministries of Britain and Europe believe we have defeated him but he would not go so quietly. He’s out there somewhere, searching for ways to increase his powers, searching for the Deathly Hallows.”

Newt frowns, “I thought those were a children’s story?”

“If only,” Dumbledore says. “If only.”

“Sir, what is it exactly you’re asking me to do?”

“Keep an eye out,” Dumbledore says. “I have no doubt that your work is important but I know too that you will find yourself in proximity to beings and situations of immense power and importance and these things will draw others like yourself and others with darker intentions. You already know that, of course. You infiltrated one of the largest beast smuggling rings in Europe, did you not?”

Newt wriggles. He did. It was mostly down to dumb luck but he did. 

“Gellert Grindelwald may prove to be the most dangerous threat the wizarding world has ever faced and I have the strangest feeling your path is destined to cross with his,” Dumbledore says.

\---

The girl dies. 

The obscurus lives. An insidious dark cloud, alive with crackling magic, hover above her broken body. The Sudanese witches and wizards want to destroy it but Newt keeps it, contains it. They think that strange, cruel. Disrespectful. Newt feels seven again and defending himself to his mother. He has good intentions, he does, he really does, he doesn’t want the next obscurial he comes across to end up a gnarled, twisted, lifeless corpse because people don’t understand - they just don’t  _ understand.  _

They have to do better. They will do better.

He seals it away in a corner of his case, sits in his shed and shakes.

_ Dear Leta,  _ he writes, scratches it out.

Writes  _ Leta,  _ scratches it out.

_ Ms Lestrange -  _  scratches it out.

_ Leta, I’m sorry -  _ balls it up, tosses it out into the case.

_ Leta, please- _

_ I don’t even know if you’re reading these -  _

There are torn pages littering his floor. His eyes sting with tears.

_ I want you here. I miss you more than I can put into words but I keep trying to imagine how you would comfort me. What words you would say, what potions you would brew but I can’t. I can’t anymore and part of me thinks that I never could but that was just it, I could. All those times it was me instead of you bearing the brunt of Malfoy’s rage or panicking because my brother had found out about whatever it was you and I had been getting up to that week or getting in trouble for skipping class, all those times it was me curled up and crying it was only what I wanted to hear you say, what I could imagine you doing that held me fast. Leta, I -  _

He burns the page and stares at the little leather bound book. He could write to his brother or mother but instead he scrawls a short note to Professor Dumbledore.

_ Professor, _

_ I am sorry to say that the young girl died. Nevertheless, I thank you for your aid. I have thought over your proposal and will of course be willing to aid you in your search.  _

_ Yours faithfully, _

_ Newton Scamander.  _

\---

It it two years before he gets the note from Dumbledore suggesting Grindelwald is in New York. 

Newt’s book is almost done. He has chased a ghost across the continents all the while continuing his work. It hangs heavy on his shoulders until one evening when he realises that he has made it this far. He has made it through school and heartbreak and wars, he has lost and he has gained so much and the knowledge he is gathering will change things, change things for the better. He has spent so long lying awake, panicked and paralysed about Grindelwald, about the creatures he has yet to find, the ones he has been too late to save, the ones he accidentally harmed and yet, he is still here.

_ It does not do well to dwell,  _ Dumbledore had said. 

He pets Frank on the neck as he reads the note. “Well, we needed to pop back to America to drop you off anyway, didn’t we?”


End file.
